Every Night
by ThisIsTotallyNotGospel
Summary: "If they had come from those... creatures, it would've been relatively better. He would've attacked, maybe tried to stop their working jaws from spewing out more desperate lies into his bleeding ears. Those... things were solid, at the very least. But this was a dream, already set in motion." Every night, the same dream. Two-shot, slightly AU.


_Darkness._

_What do you think of when you hear the word? Most think of night, empty under a new moon._

_Here lies a different darkness. A darkness filled with elongated shadows, each ebony sliver seeming to hide things- no, **creatures**- that the boy in the middle of the room knew should not exist._

_Among others, there were beautiful women with legs made of unnaturally silver snakes. Massive lions with reptilian dark green eyes- so piercing that he was almost sure they could see into his soul. Minuscule foxes, cloaked in blood-red fur, who seemed to multiply in number with every second that passed. _(he had an amazing and crazy imagination and he hated it)

_He knew what would happen if he turned around- but he couldn't help it. Moved by an unknown force, he turned slowly (almost painfully) to look at the room, trying to avoid disturbing the monsters _(monsters? maybe, probably)_ that were seemingly paying no attention to him._

It's just a dream,_ he told himself. _It's not real.

_That didn't stop him from jumping when the voices started to whisper and fill the room_ (echoing around, they wouldn't stop, they had to stop)_. If they had come from those... creatures, it would've been relatively better. He would've attacked, maybe tried to stop their working jaws from spewing out more desperate lies into his bleeding ears. Those... things were solid, at the very least. But this was a dream_ (nightmare),_ already set in motion. Once he started to fall asleep, he knew what was going to happen (in the back of his mind); but every night he almost felt like it was his first time. The worst part? He couldn't do anything to stop it._

_Those voices, dark and scratchy, seemed to rise straight out of the shadows, twisting and turning into vaguely recognizable shapes; an almost-living_ (undead?) _personification of his most deeply rooted fears._

_He tried to ignore them, instead shakily standing up and surveying the room that haunted his mind every day and every night. _(how did he know that wasn't this the first time? oh, right, he'd remember later that he had the nightmare all the time)

_The room was made out of crystal, shining brightly in the darkness. The entirety of the glass building would've been beautiful… if not for the paint. There was a pattern of freshly painted shapes (that looked eerily like delicate black snowflakes), with the black paint drops still sliding down the window panes. __In retrospect, it kind of fit the theme for the rest of the room. If it had been real, the place would most likely have been a torture room. There were handcuffs and whips hung on the walls, and broken chairs on the floor, metal cuffs still attached to each arm. _(he could only wonder exactly what type of torture went on in the building)

_Then he couldn't not listen to the voices anymore, so he focused on them instead. When he heard what they had to say, he immediately wished he hadn't. _

_"Nobody likes you."_

_"Your mother died because of you._

_"Your father abandoned you."_

_"Your sister hates you."_

_His sister hates him. His sister hates him. His sister, his lifeline, his Bia _(his love)_…she hates him? That statement, no matter how much of a lie it was, broke him. Again. Whereas before he had stood (albeit a bit shakily), now his knees weakened and folded, sending him straight to the ground. They- whatever they were- noticed and spoke louder, almost screaming the horrible lies. _(god they just loved to torture him, didn't they)

_He pushed his hands over his ears, trying to block the rough voices screeching at him. He might have forgotten that they were pretty much ghosts- they shaped themselves into tiny wisps and curled into the cracks in between his hands. He only realized his mistake once the lies were amplified straight into his eardrums, driving him crazy with just a few words._

_"Your sister hates you." _

_"She wishes you weren't born." _

_"She sees you as a burden." _

_"She thinks you are what split your parents apart." _

_"She hates you."_

_It became their mantra__. Bianca hates me. _(of course she does, why wouldn't she? these monsters didn't need to lie, they knew he would break either way)

_"Bianca hates you."_

___"Bianca hates you."_

_"Bianca hates you."_

___"Bianca hates you."_ (he was trying to not think about the fact that they knew her name... it wasn't working)

_"Bianca. Hates. You."_

_They wouldn't stop. They just wouldn't stop._

_"Aiutami, sorella... per favore, aiutami," he whispered to himself. (translation: Help me, sister... please help me)_

_No one came, of course. What should he have expected? His sister to pop up in the middle of his dream and save him? That wasn't how it worked, and he knew it._

_The monsters _(he almost forgot about those, of course they would show up now, when he was most vulnerable. were they going to eat him?) _stepped forward, one by one. They walked closer _(too close)_ until they were standing in a tight circle, surrounding the sobbing boy. They spoke in one voice. It was hoarse, like it hadn't been used in a while. _

_"**Laughable**, really. Do you actually think your dear sister will come and save you? She hates you. You… you are all alone."_

_He tried to respond- he really did- but his throat was blocked, full of unspoken curses and sobs. He wiped away his tears angrily _(when did he start to cry? he never cried) _tried to will himself to stop crying; it didn't work.  
_

_The women (he could pretend they didn't scare him as long as he didn't look below their stomach) laughed evilly, walking closer and only stopping once they knew he could feel their breath on his neck. He felt whips lashing against his back, felt (not saw) all of them smiling creepily. All he could do was scream _(holy CRAP that was hot as bloody hell he had to scream)_ as the scalding whips burned imprints into his back._

* * *

He woke up screaming.


End file.
